Ascendancy

by Karri Thompson

We toured Michael’s house next. It was identical to mine, except in the living room his curtains were brown with tan dots instead of crimson curtains with gold flowers.

  “You’re due at the reception,” said Mia, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor when we were finished.

  “Don’t worry. We’re leaving right now,” I said.

  As we walked back to the limo, I hastened my pace, and Mia practically stepped on my heels to keep up with me.

  “So what do you think?” asked Michael.

  “You were right. Welcome to my century,” I said and planted a happy kiss on his lips. I imagined living there with Michael right next door. Cooking a real meal, keeping the windows open to breathe the fresh air, maybe even taking my daughters on an archaeological dig once they were old enough.

  My new house made me feel welcome for the first time since my awakening. Like I finally had a place I belonged. A place I could almost call home.

  When we arrived at the governor’s mansion, I exited the limo with Victoria and a woman met me with a non-hovering stroller and pop-up canopy. Two men loaded our bags onto a flatbed cart, and Prime Minister Heath joined us at the stairs.

  After tucking the baby into the stroller and propping up the canopy, we followed Heath up a set of brick stairs that lead to a colonial-style white and red-brick mansion with Grecian columns framing its double doors.

  Michael carried the stroller up the steps and teasingly shook his head, pretending it weighed ten times more than it really did. While we walked, Mia and Shen-Lung’s security team encircled Michael, Victoria, and I, casually displacing Heath’s team who had taken those positions when we first exited the limo. Mia and her team, in their black uniforms and thick-soled boots, sharply contrasted Heath’s security team with their black, two-piece suits, dress shoes, and grins.

  As we entered the mansion, Mia drummed her fingers against the front right pocket of her uniform pants and stopped when she caught me staring.

  “Lawrence will show you to your rooms,” said Heath. “I suspect you’d like some time to relax and freshen up before the reception.”

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied and then turned to Michael. “Too bad our homes aren’t ready. I’d much rather stay there, despite the fact that this mansion is a lot fancier.”

  “Me, too,” said Michael, dropping the stroller to the floor.

  A massive staircase branched up from the foyer, splitting at the landing into two halls, one going left, and the other going right. With Lawrence and Mia in the lead we climbed the stairs, Victoria in my arms and her stroller clacking against the marble steps as Michael pulled it behind him.

  “You’d think they’d offer to help you with that,” I whispered to Michael and nodded toward the security officers behind us.

  “No kidding.” He pulled a little harder when we reached the last step, and the stroller’s legs hit the back of his calves.

  “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask,” said Lawrence. “You’ll find my number on the card next to the phone.”

  “And my team will remain stationed in the hall,” said Mia as Lawrence opened first the door to my room and then Michael’s, which was directly across from mine. Like a twenty-first century hotel, our rooms opened with a key card, and as Lawrence handed me the card and reminded Michael and me to call him if we had any questions or concerns, I rose up and down on my toes, bouncing in place.

  “A phone. An actual telephone. Here’s one, Michael. I can’t believe this,” I said as I dragged him into my room before he could even check out his own quarters. “Listen to this.” I lifted the receiver and held it against Michael’s ear.

  “That’s a telephone? What’s that sound?” he asked.

  “It’s a dial tone.” I brought the receiver to my ear and what was once an annoying sound 1,004 years ago was honey to my ears. “What do you think, Victoria?” I cradled the receiver against her tiny pink ear, and she smiled. “I bet they have cell phones, too, though. I’m sure they have the technology. We’ll both need one.”

  “What’s a cell phone?”

  I spent the next fifteen minutes instructing Michael in the use of hard-wired phones and defined “cell phone” by equating it to a hand-held, voluntarily-owned L-Band used to communicate and retrieve information, but without the users’ every move being tracked and recorded by the government.

  “But in a way it does,” he said. “It’s connected to, what did you call it? The world-wide web, and with global positioning, your location…”

  “No it doesn’t. I could turn off the GPS if I wanted to. You can’t turn off an L-Band.” My makeshift bun untwisted and fell free with an angry toss of my head.

  There was a knock at my door, and I looked out the peep hole.

  “Two men are in the hall with our luggage,” I said. Mia was behind them, her lips tight and shoulders back.

  Michael reached to open the door. “Wait,” I whispered and grabbed his arm. “Do you still have your L-Blocker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Take it with you to the reception, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it, please. For good luck. I’m taking mine. When we were in the regions, it was the only thing that gave us freedom.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “And hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you about the phone.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I’m just over-sensitive when it comes to my century. I get a little too defensive.”

  He opened the door and one of the men brought my luggage inside. Mia remained in the hall, and although I smiled and thanked the man for bringing up my bags, I purposely avoided looking at or saying anything to her.

  When the man was gone, Michael gave me a kiss and went to his room. Yeah, I was definitely not in the mood to put my century up against this one.

  There was a crib next to my bed and a changing table stocked with baby supplies. I changed Victoria, laid her down for a nap, and just as I was about to jump into the center of my bed, there was another knock at the door.

  Chapter Two

  Was it Michael? What did he want?

  The knock came again, but this time I realized it couldn’t have been Michael.

  The double raps originated from the door across from my bed. Obviously that door didn’t open to a closet like I had assumed. It had to be an adjoining suite.

  Soft music hit my ears as I approached the door. It was double bolted and the locks clicked loudly as I twisted the thumb key to unlock them.

  As I stepped inside, the music became more distinct, a synthesized piano and guitar with a melody that was eerily off key. Widening my eyes as they adjusted to the dim light of the room, I saw a table topped with red linens and centered with a covered silver tray. Between two goblets of water a candle burned in a sleek, crystal base, flickering wildly from the air vent above, and in a golden tub of ice, a bottle of champagne dripped with condensation.

  A man stood next to the table. He was in his fifties, well-groomed with graying hair, and when he came closer, I saw that his eyes were light blue.

  “Hello, Miss Dannacher,” he said. “I’m Donovon Harrington.”

  It was the new president of Region One. He wore dark jeans, a thick, long-sleeved blue sweater, and black shoes, a futile attempt at looking like a sporty, casual male. He held out his hand. His shake was light, and when we released hands, he let his fingertips run the length of my palm. I jerked my hand away and an unsettling chill rose between my shoulder blades.

  “What’s this all about?” I asked quickly.

  “It’s a celebration,”

  “What are you celebrating?”

  “We are celebrating you.” He paused. “And me.” I lifted an eyebrow. “You are the most famous woman on earth, and I’m the new president of Region One.”

  “Famous? Hardly. Only a few people know about me. Fame requires fans,” I scoffed, and though I remained composed, my stance solid and voice unwavering, my nerves were on edge. Everything about
this man creeped me out—the arrogant tone of his voice, the curl of his thin upper lip when he spoke, and the way he gestured with one hand lifted and fingers positioned like he was holding a cigarette.

  “Maybe so, but I can say this. I’m your biggest fan, and I’m a fan of the Van Winkle Project.” He pulled out a chair for me.

  “Thank you, but I think I’ll wait and celebrate at the reception instead.”

  I turned to leave, but Harrington stepped in front of me. “Please, Miss Dannacher. Please do me the honor. Join me in our own private celebration.”

  He squinted, and his shoulders relaxed and rounded. I wasn’t intimidated, but I sat down and scooted my chair closer to the open door so I could see Victoria in her crib. Harrington took the seat across from me and leaned down to lift something from the floor.

  I could do this—endure alone time with Harrington. After today, I’d hopefully never see him again. And until our daughters were here and I felt safe and had complete faith in our contract, I had better play nice and not do anything to rattle the powers that be.

  “A gift. For you,” he said, and set a pink package on the table.

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to—”

  “Please open it.”

  “I really can’t accept this.”

  “Yes, you can. I insist.”

  He pushed the gift toward me, and I lifted it from the table. The pink paper crumpled away as I released the small bow. Inside the box was a small decorative bottle of perfume labeled “Queen of the Night” in gold script. I pulled off the cap and took a deep whiff. “It’s lovely,” I fibbed. It smelled like minty roses, something a grandma would wear.

  “Queen of the Night is the most expensive perfume in the world. It’s made from the kadupul flower. The kadupul blooms once a year under the cover of night and withers away before dawn, making it the rarest and most exquisite botanical on the planet. Its petals are soft, pale, and velvety—like your skin.”

  It took everything I had not to laugh and roll my eyes. At least his BS had somewhat settled my nerves. He lifted his finger like he was about to stroke my cheek, but when I leaned away from him he set his hand back on the table.

  “Like I said, it’s lovely.” I set the delicate bottle back into its box. What a joke wasting money on something as frivolous as perfume, something I never got into the habit of wearing.

  “I’ve seen you before. You didn’t know that, did you?” he asked, sitting down across from me. “Before your awakening.”

  “Great,” I said sarcastically and closed the box.

  He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and looked at me inquisitively, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Yes, I was right,” he said as if he’d just won a prize. “Your eyes are blue. I guessed they were, but they are even bluer than I imagined.”

  “If I was comatose with closed eyes, then you saw me at my best,” I continued in the same tone. “Was that before or after I’d given birth to my twins?” Try to play nice, Cassie.

  Harrington popped the cork from the artificial champagne bottle—clones frowned on real alcohol—and filled both of our glasses. “After.”

  “Where are they now?” I asked.

  He looked at his L-Band and shook his head. “If I had access to Liaison One, I could tell you precisely where they are. But, since I don’t, I’ll have to make my best guess.”

  “Please do.”

  “I suspect they’re already in Region One and are being readied for their next stop: Tasma.”

  “Where were they before that? Who’s been taking care of them? Have they been told about Michael and me?” My heartbeat became palpable with a sudden surge of panic, and my eyes shifted from Harrington to Victoria. She was still asleep, and from where I was and through the slats of her crib, I could see the curve of her sweet face just above her pink blanket.

  “So many questions.” He shook his head. “All of which I do not have the answers for.” He held up his index finger. “But VW2 and VW3 will arrive tomorrow morning with a team of escorts, and I’m sure that team will be more than happy to answer them.”

  He lifted his glass. “But until then, please join me in a toast.” I reluctantly picked up my glass, and after another glance at Victoria, my pulse settled. “To Cassie Dannacher, the woman who will save mankind, and…” He nodded at me and held his glass even higher.

  “And to Donovan Harrington, the new president of Region One,” I announced half-heartedly after taking his hint.

  Our glasses clicked, and from over the dancing candle flames Harrington smiled, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other. I took a sip of the bubbly, golden liquid and tried not to make a face as its artificial tartness hit the back of my throat. Harrington took a delicate gulp quickly followed by another.

  “So, President Harrington—”

  “Donovan. Please call me Donovan when we’re alone.” Whatever. This was the only time I ever expected or wanted to be alone with him. “Donovan, is President Tupolev here, yet?”

  “Yes, we arrived together.”

  “And is he as enthusiastic as you when it comes to the project?”

  “Of course.” Harrington lifted the lid from the serving tray, and the silver dome flashed in the candlelight. Eight chocolate-dipped strawberries circled the plate with the biggest of the berries placed in the tray’s center.

  Strawberries and champagne? How original. This private celebration had begun to feel more like a date.

  “So does the prime minister know we’re cheating and celebrating early?” I asked, taking another small sip of champagne.

  “He does.” Harrington picked up a strawberry by its stem and held it to my mouth. As much as I didn’t want to, I took a small bite as gracefully as possible, the chocolate shell cracking against my lips.

  “Delicious,” I said to be polite, although at the moment I didn’t have much of an appetite for sweets.

  “You have a bit of chocolate…” said Harrington, and with his index finger brushed away a flake that was stuck to my lip gloss. His features were shadowed with the flicker of candlelight as he leaned across the table, and I sighed in relief as he drew his hand away.

  “Thank you,” I said and took a breath to dispel the creepiness of what had just happened. “So, I still don’t understand why you’ve gone to all this trouble when we’ll be celebrating downstairs in less than an hour?”

  “I was anxious to meet you and to meet you alone.” He ate the remainder of my berry, holding it above his lips before he closed his mouth upon it and drew the stem away.

  “Alone? Why?” I took a big drink of water, and as Harrington refilled his empty flute with champagne, I stole another glance at Victoria, who was still sleeping peacefully.

  “Because, Cassie, I have a proposition for you.”

  A proposition? “And what’s that?” I asked as nicely as I could.

  “First of all, why do you want the program to take place on Tasma?”

  “Because here Dr. Bennett and I will be in complete control over the project and without any interference from the regions,” I said.

  “And what if I offered you the same conditions, only in Region One instead.”

  “I’d say no.”

  “Why?”

  Are you kidding? Where should I start? “Because I refuse to wear an L-Band. I don’t want Victoria or Michael to be banded either,” I said, keeping my cool.

  “What if I could make that happen, too?”

  “Would you confine me to a tiny room in GenH1 like Dr. Little did if you decide I’m not behaving properly? Or if I make too many demands?”

  “Of course not. You would have total freedom. We want the Van Winkle Project to succeed. And Dr. Little no longer resides in Region One, so you don’t have to worry about him.” The right side of his mouth turned up into a smile. “So,” he asked, “will you return to my region?”

  “Before I answer any more questions, tell me this: what do Shen-Lung and Tupolev think about
this proposition of yours?”

  “They don’t think anything about it. Why? Because they don’t know about it.” He laughed. “But if you decided to bring your program to Region One, they will know about it when you tell them. And they will agree to it, because they will agree to anything you say.”

  “Maybe so, but…”

  An uncomfortable chill rode up my spine, and my head spun. He leaned across the table and narrowed his eyes. His shadow rode the length of the wall, and I was suddenly afraid of him and what he might do if I said no. What if he had something to do with my daughters’ arrival being delayed, in an effort to keep me on edge? Right now my best move was to keep him as a fan.

  “I need to think about it,” I said confidently and took a gulp of water so big it hurt going down.

  “My, my, who gave you this ring?” he asked and grabbed my wrist. The nest of tiny diamonds sparkled as he held it closer to the candle.

  “Does it matter?” I forced a giggle. “It will bring me good luck the next time I try to conceive.”

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  “And what about your ring—your wedding ring?” I dared to ask. Harrington’s eyebrows came together. “You can’t fool me, Donovan.” I smiled. “It’s obvious you’re a married man.” With my free hand, I brushed the tip of my finger along a pink indentation on his left ring finger.

  Harrington’s eyes fell to the tablecloth. “I’m no longer in love with my wife, and she is no longer in love with me. Our continued marriage is simply one of convenience. We haven’t slept in the same room for years.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said softly as he took my hand in both of his. “I’m sorry,” I added, though I wasn’t.

  “I’m not.”

  Without letting go of my hand, Harrington stood, came around to my side of table, and lowered down to one knee like he was about to give a marriage proposal. With his right hand he stroked the top of my thighs, and it took everything I had not to kick him in the throat.

  “Come back to Region One with me. You can make the rules and my team will follow them.” As he spoke, his breathing rate increased, and his hand upon my thighs became heavy and forceful.